I'm NOT Overreacting
by TrustTheCloak
Summary: Set in Gilan's apprenticeship. What happens when Gilan is your apprentice? A lot of gray hairs, it seems like. (Cover art found on Pinterest.)
1. Chapter 1

"Today, I want you to track me. Surprise me. Don't let me know you're your there." Halt told his tall, sandy haired apprentice. They were standing in a small clearing, surrounded by trees.

"Sure." Gilan replied, nodding. Glancing around, he casually said, "We're sort of far out."

Halt eyed the boy uneasily. "Yes?"

"What if I run into a wild boar?" Gilan said, a mischievous glint in his blue eyes.

Rolling his eyes upwards, Halt replied, "We'll assume you won't."

"But assuming I do?"

"Shoot it with your bow." Halt said shortly, not liking where the conversation was headed.

"Assuming my bow string is broken?" Gilan said, all too visibly trying to hide a smile.

"Gilan."

"Yes, Halt?" The apprentice replied innocently.

"Stop talking."

"Yes, Halt.

Halt shook his head, then began moving towards the trees. "Wait ten minutes, then start tracking me." Halt then disappeared into the forest.

* * *

After what he figured to be close to ten minutes, Gilan began to follow Halt's trail. It was difficult, yes, and sometimes not even there, but Halt had taught him how to follow a hard trail. _Don't look for a clear, precise path of travel. You won't find it. _Halt had said. _An imprint in the dirt, a crushed section of grass, a broken twig, can all tell you a lot of what you want to know. _A few more minutes of following the barely visible trail, and Gilan was rewarded. Halt was kneeling in a clearing, apparently studying something on the ground. As of now, Gilan didn't _think _Halt had seen him, but that was debatable. Halt had a habit of surprising the person surprising him. Still, he felt relatively confident. Quietly, Gilan took a few steps forward..."OUCH!"_  
_

Halt's head turned. Getting to his feet, he made his way toward his apprentice. "That's an odd strategy." He said dryly.

"Ow, ow, ow, ow!" Gilan said, lying on the ground, cradling his foot.

Halt sighed. "You didn't manage to sprain your ankle AGAIN, did you?"

"Nooo..." Gilan moaned. Through gritted teeth, he said. "I stubbed my toe."

Halt raised an eyebrow. "You stubbed your toe."

"Yes! And it really, really hurt!"

Halt rolled his eyes upward. "You're overreacting."

The apprentice's expression morphed from pained to indignant. "I'm NOT overreacting! Stubbed toes feel like you just got your toe cut off! They're PAINFUL!"

"I'm sure." Halt replied, sounding the complete opposite. "Let's go. It's dinnertime." Halt began moving in the direction of their cabin.

Gilan climbed to his feet, his toe still throbbing. Catching up with his mentor, he asked, "So you really think I overreacted?"

Halt shook his head. "No, I don't think you overreacted. I KNOW you overreacted."

Gilan huffed, then brightened. "I'll prove it, then. I'll prove that stubbed toes are excruciating and that I did not overreact!"

"You do that." Halt said aloud. In his mind, however, he thought dully, _I'm a dead man.__  
_

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**_Please review! Chapter 2 to be up soon._**


	2. Chapter 2

The next few days, though he did not show it, were nerve wracking for Halt. Gilan's face seemed set in a permanent, scheming grin. "I need to go the village!" Gilan would announce, then dart out the door before Halt could ask any questions. In truth, Gilan had begged one of the shop owners for a job in exchange for bricks. When the suspicious shop owner had asked for what purpose he was planning to use the bricks, the sandy haired youth would reply swiftly, "I need them for a project." The shop owner had prodded for more information, but the apprentice stubbornly did not yield.

At long last, Gilan put his plan into motion. The supply of bricks he had worked so hard to procure were strategically placed around the house and yard, just waiting for Halt to hit an unsuspecting foot on. Of course, Halt was suspecting something, Gilan knew, but the bricks seemed so obvious an idea, Halt wouldn't be expecting something so pathetically dimwitted. _I'm a genius. _Gilan would think smugly to himself.

* * *

"We are tracking again today, since our attempt from a few days ago was sadly cut short." Halt said shortly, moving from the doorframe of the cabin to the porch.

"It wasn't my fault!" Gilan said for the hundredth time.

"Technically speaking, it was. You are in charge of your feet, though sometimes I think that's debatable, and it was you who tripped over the log, therefore stubbing your toe, therefore causing you to yell, though the yell was optional."

The apprentice scowled. Halt, pretending not to notice, moved down the steps. Gilan's eyes widened. So close... THUD. Halt's foot made contact with the large, heavy brick Gilan had so carefully placed in the tall grass. Gilan didn't know whether to feel elated or terrified.

Halt closed his eyes, biting his lip. Gilan didn't know whether he did this from pain, or because he was afraid that if he opened his mouth, he wouldn't be able to stop yelling. _Probably both. _Gilan reasoned, inching away from his teacher, though the corners of his mouth kept twitching upward. Gilan knew the only rewards he would receive for his genius was this short reaction, and a long, cold night in a tree. Tentatively, though finally allowing the smile to appear, the apprentice asked, "Does it hurt?"

Halt, through gritted teeth, managed two words. "Gilan. Tree."

Gilan frowned. "But, Halt! I was proving a point! You told me I could! You said, 'You do that'!"

"I was being sarcastic!"

Gilan forced his face into an expression of shock. "Sarcastic? You used sarcasm? But, Halt, you told me sarcasm is the lowest form of wit!"

Halt's hand met contact with his face. Giving himself a moment to compose himself, the Ranger replied, "It's only the lowest form of wit when you use it."

Gilan dismissed this intended insult. "But, you didn't clarify you were being sarcastic. So technically, I shouldn't have to sleep in the tree, because you told me I could prove my point, and even if you were being sarcastic, I didn't know that, so I can't be blamed!"

Halt gave an exasperated sigh. "Fine. Just, fine. You don't have to sleep in the tree." The Ranger said, trying to keep his temper in check. He then snapped, "Go shoot your bow! Heaven knows you need the practice."

"Yes, Halt!" The apprentice replied cheerfully, heading towards the trees. _He's practically skipping! _Halt noted with disgust. _I need some coffee. _Pivoting towards the cabin, he moved his foot forward... SMACK. Of course. The same brick.

"GILAN!**"**

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**Please review! This chapter came out better in my head, but I feel it's not as bad as it could have been. Still, it was very fun to write!**


	3. Chapter 3

"Halt?" Gilan asked tentatively, glancing at his teacher.

Halt stifled a sigh, then answered, "What, Gilan?"

"I have a question."

Halt rolled his eyes upward. "You just asked one."

Gilan grinned sheepishly before continuing, "Does it bother you that I'm taller then you? By like, a lot?"

Halt didn't answer immediately. Many things were running through his head, most of them along the lines, _When did he notice he was taller then me? _Finally, Halt replied, "You're not that much taller."

Gilan's forehead creased in confusion. "But Halt, I talked to Crowley! He said you're the shortest Ranger that's ever been in the Corps!"

Halt eyes darkened. "Crowley said that?"

"Yup."

Sighing heavily, Halt made a mental note to tell Crowley never to talk to his apprentice again. In an effort to change the subject, Halt said, "It doesn't matter how tall I am! I have a reputation! You, Gilan, do not have a reputation. "

Gilan shook his head, a smile breaking through on his face. "Right. The reputation where you're eight feet tall and kill bears with your bare hands. THAT reputation."

_How did we get back onto the subject of height? _Halt thought wearily. "Most Rangers are sort of small! And I'm not the shortest." Halt snapped, catching Gilan's smirk. "And you are not as tall as you think you are!"

Gilan thought a moment. "I will be. As for right now, it helps having a good cloak and a short teacher."

Halt took a deep breath. It was taking an immense amount of self control to not send an arrow into his apprentice's leg. "Since when has height been such a good thing?"

The apprentice shrugged. "I don't know... I guess height is intimidating."

"Rangers are intimidating already. But being a Ranger, you want to move unseen. Being tall adds extra work." Halt said, raising an eyebrow.

Gilan mirrored Halt's expression. "Watch me become the best unseen mover in the Corps."

Halt sighed, then turned to the kettle. Pouring himself a mug of coffee, Halt answered, "Maybe, Gilan. Maybe. Now, today we need to ride up to the castle. I need to speak to the Baron." The conversation, Halt implied, was over. But Gilan, irrepressible Gilan, couldn't help adding one last comment.

"Hey, Halt. Coffee has been said to stunt growth..." The apprentice then darted out the door towards to horses.

Halt gave a long, lingering sigh. Today was going to be a long day.

* * *

**Please review! I'm turning this story into any random pranks/funny discussions between Halt and Gilan that come to mind. I'm open for requests!**


	4. Chapter 4

**Requested by Mac Gustah- thanks for the awesome idea! **

* * *

Halt left the cabin, his lanky apprentice close behind. "What are we doing, Halt?" Gilan asked cheerfully. Halt didn't answer. Gilan sighed, and continued prodding. "Halt. Halt. Halt. What-are-we-doing. Halt. Halt."

Halt's lips visibly pursed, but the older Ranger remained silent.

"Halt!" Gilan said again, very emphatically.

"What?!" Halt responded crossly, irritated that he had answered first, though not in the mood to listen to his student's usual conversation.

"I asked what we were doing."

"Going to see the Baron! Stop asking so many questions."

Gilan bit his lip, surprised at the very agitated tone. Entering the stables, Halt immediately moved to saddle Abelard. "Could I ride bareback?" Gilan asked, peeking out of his mare's stall.

Halt clenched his teeth, his temper near boiling point. "No more questions! Do what you want!"

Gilan hastily ducked back into the stall to slip Blaze's bridle in. "Why are you in such bad mood?" The only thing Gilan received in answer was one of Abelard's brushes thrown at the back of his head.

* * *

The two shaggy Ranger horses approached Castle Redmont. Gilan hadn't asked anymore questions, still fuming slightly from being hit with a brush. As they approached the gate, however, Gilan's curiosity got the better of him. "Are you mad at the Baron?"

Halt closed his eyes for a few seconds. Then, opening them, he dismounted Abelard. "Get off your horse."

"What?"

"Get off your horse. Now."

Confused, Gilan slid off Blaze. "Why?"

"Come over here. Leave Blaze."

Suspicious, Gilan walked over to Halt. A second later, he registered three things. One, Halt's hand grabbing his collar. Two, flying through the air. And three, hitting the water with a splash. Staggering to his feet, coughing water, the apprentice spluttered, "W-w-what was that for?!"

Halt was already remounted. "I told you not to ask me any more questions." He called behind him as he continued through the gate into the courtyard.

Gilan found himself alone, save Blaze and several guards. The guards were trying unsuccessfully to muffle their snickers of laughter. Gilan glared them into silence. Blaze was watching him curiously.

_Why are you standing in the water?_

"Oh, be quiet." Gilan told his mare as he climbed out of the moat, then attempted to wring the excess moisture off his cloak and tunic.

_Ha. That's funny._

Gilan sighed, knowing he would never get the last word with his horse. Especially his horse.

* * *

Gilan, still dripping water, climbed the stairs to Baron Arald's office. Behind the door, he could hear voices, which he recognized as Baron Arald's and Halt. Pausing behind the door, the tall apprentice listened to the conversation for a few moments.

"Arald, _no."_ Halt said, speaking in the firm, almost exasperated tone he used whenever Gilan did something rather stupid. Which, Gilan thought wryly, tended to be quite often.

"Halt, this only happens once in a lifetime. It is, say..." Arald gave a cough. Gilan swore he was trying to conceal a laugh. "A momentous occasion."

Halt's voice was as cold as ice. "_No._ You are not going to celebrate my birthday, of all ridiculous things to celebrate!"

Gilan gave an explosive sneezing sound as he tried ineffectively to mask his laughter. Knowing his cover was blown, Gilan pushed the door open, moving into sight of Halt's glower. Shaking his head, the lanky apprentice asked, amused. "You threw me into the moat over _THIS? _That seems a bit drastic!

Arald blinked. "Halt? You threw your own apprentice into the moat?"

Halt shrugged, unconcerned. "I did. He's young- young people bounce. Especially this one, all the time."

Gilan added helpfully, "Except this time it was more like splattering rather hard against a body of water."

Halt rolled his eyes. "Thank you, Gilan. Now, before we were so rudely interrupted, I believe the Baron was about tell me that he would stop this nonsense. That is, if he values his life."

Arald edged a bit further away from the small, grizzled Ranger. He didn't _think _Halt would go through on a threat that extreme, but it was better to be safe then sorry. "Fine, Halt. We won't celebrate your birthday, if you really don't want us too." Arald sighed wistfully. "Though it would have been fun... And Pauline would have been there..." Arald glanced up quickly to see what effect his words had made, but the Ranger and his apprentice had already gone.

* * *

Halt swung easily up onto Abelard. Gilan was a little less eager. "Blaze is shedding." The boy said distastefully. "Her hair will get all over me."

"You're the one who wanted to ride bareback." Halt replied unconcernedly.

"That was before I knew I was going to get shoved into a moat." Gilan muttered under his breath as he vaulted onto his horse, sighing as he thought about how hairy his clothes were going to be.

Halt turned Abelard, a smile touching his lips. _Not a bad birthday, _The Ranger mused.

* * *

**Halt is so mean. XD As always, please review! Next chapter- Requested by seth 8627, Halt pulls a prank... *Dun Dun Dun!***

**-TrustTheCloak**


	5. Chapter 5

**Requested by seth 8627- Thanks for reading and reviewing!**

* * *

Gilan nervously exited his room, casting a fleeting glance at Halt. Halt had been gone most of yesterday, having a long, boring meeting with Crowley and Baron Arald. Gilan, rather stupidly, had decided to experiment how much honey you would have to put in a kettle of coffee before it became more honey then coffee. It had turned out to be quite a lot- their whole supply, actually. Gilan held his breath as Halt reached for the honey jar.

"Gilan." Halt said, his voice very deliberate as he saw the contents of the jar. "Where did the honey go? This jar was half full yesterday."

Gilan looked at the ground. "Um, yes, about that..."

"What did you do?" Halt said sharply.

"I did an experiment... It, um, involved honey..."

"Yes?" Halt prodded.

"I, um, um, sort of put all the honey in a kettle of coffee, to, um, see how it would affect the texture..." The apprentice trailed off.

Halt's hand and face became very well acquainted. "You used ALL of it?!" The older Ranger asked exasperatedly.

Gilan continued staring at his boots, unwilling to meet the dark, piercing eyes he knew were glaring at him. "Yup, that's um, about the whole of it."

Halt took a deep breath to calm himself. "First, stop saying 'um'. It's annoying. Second, you are going to ride up to the village and buy me more honey. Now."

"Of course!" Came the flustered, hasty reply as the tall boy wheeled toward and out the door. Quite frankly, Gilan was very relieved that he was still functioning. Halt without his usual morning coffee was a daunting figure.

Halt sat down in his chair, taking a small sip of his already poured coffee. After swallowing, he put the mug down. Yes, the honey was worth waiting for.

* * *

Halt watched expectantly as Gilan dashed inside the cabin. Breathing hard, Gilan said triumphantly, "I got it! A whole gallon!"

Halt briskly took the jug of honey. The grizzled Ranger had made a fresh batch of hot coffee, and he sighed contently as he spooned his preferred amount of honey into the mug. Gilan promptly spoke. "Maybe a thank you is in order?"

Halt shrugged. "I don't see why."

Gilan cocked his head. "Remember? I got you more honey!"

Halt shrugged again, "Yes. And if you hadn't done your- what did you call it? Oh yes, your 'experiment', I wouldn't have needed the honey. In the end, it goes back to you. You were only accomplishing what was due."

Gilan opened his mouth to retort back, then bit it off before it even started. In truth, Halt was correct. "Yes. You're right." The apprentice finally answered in defeat.

Halt nodded. "I usually am."

Gilan gave a crooked smile. Halt took a deep draft of coffee, then spoke. "You know, Abelard and Blaze told me the stable is quite dirty. We should probably clean it."

Gilan sighed. Moving out the door, the apprentice muttered, "Or in other words, 'Gilan should clean the stable.'"

Halt gave a barely visible smile. Yes, having an apprentice was fun- and this was only the beginning.

* * *

After making sure the Gilan was safely out of sight, mucking out dirty straw, Halt entered his apprentice's bedroom. He didn't normally go into Gilan's room, but desperate pranks called for desperate measures. Opening the jar of honey- yes, the very honey Gilan had just brought home- Halt drizzled the sticky, golden liquid all over his apprentice's pillow. Halt hid a smirk. Gilan's dark blonde hair wouldn't be so orderly after laying in the viscous mess he had just created. Putting the lid back on, Halt hurried from the room. After putting the empty honey jar back on the shelf, Halt settled himself in his chair to finish reports.

A while later, Gilan entered the house. Halt wrinkled his nose. "You smell like horse."

Gilan spread his hands out in bewilderment. "I was cleaning the _horse _stable."

"That doesn't mean you had to make yourself smell like it." Halt replied nonchalantly.

Gilan gave a short bark of laughter as he walked toward his room. Halt glanced up from his paper as he heard the bed creak as it always did when Gilan laid down.

"Ugh! What is THAT?!" Gilan screeched as he felt the sticky liquid ooze onto him. "HONEY?!"

Halt put his report down, as to give his full attention to his stunned student, who had scrambled off his bed and darted into the sitting room. "Halt! I have honey in my hair!" The boy wailed.

Halt nodded. "I might feel bad if I wasn't enjoying your reaction so much."

Gilan gaped at his teacher, aghast. "Halt? You did this? But, but I'm the one who pranks in this cabin! I'm fairly good at it." The boy added defensively.

Halt raised an eyebrow. "You consider putting mud in my bed a fairly good prank?"

Gilan's blue eyes widened. "We don't talk about that. I already admitted it was a horrible idea!" He said hastily.

Turning back to his report, Halt carefully placed the paper to hide his slight smile. "I recommend going to wash your hair before the honey really soaks in."

Gilan whimpered, then jogged out the door to the water barrel. Halt's slight smile grew faintly wider as he heard the continuous sounds of Gilan dunking his head in the water, followed by frantic scrubbing. Pranking did have its perks, as long as you were the one pulling the prank. Raising his voice, Halt called,

"After you're done, maybe you could run up to the village and buy more honey. We're out."

* * *

**That was fun to write. As always, reviews are appreciated. Next chapter- As requested by a Guest, what would happen if Gilan got a girlfriend?**

**-TrustTheCloak**


	6. Chapter 6

Gilan slid his cloak off. Neatly folding it, he set it on his bed. Sliding his quiver off, he set the item, along with his smaller recurve bow, on his wooden stool. Hesitating, the apprentice glanced down at his knives. "Should I? She'll most likely insist I take them off..." He mused to himself. Gilan hated being weaponless, and Halt would be thoroughly agitated if he found out his apprentice had gone anywhere without some form of defense. _Your weapons are a part of you. _Halt was fond of saying. Yes, Gilan decided, he would keep the knives. Quietly moving from his room, he edged toward the cabin door.

"Where are you going, Gilan?" Halt's voice floated across the room from where the older Ranger was sitting with his paper.

Gilan jerked to a stop. "Oh..." He paused, then answered lamely, "Out."

Halt raised an eyebrow. "So I figured. Out where? And where is your cloak? And bow?"

Gilan blinked. "I tore my cloak." The boy answered honestly- earlier that morning his long green and gray cloak had caught on a sharp branch and ripped. "And I'm just going to the village."

Halt continued gazing at his student, who shifted uncomfortably. "Why?"

Gilan unconsciously scraped his boot across the floor. "I'm going to the village," Gilan replied carefully, "to meet with someone. It's really nothing to bother about, Halt."

Halt lowered his eyes back to his report. "If you're sure."

"Yes! I'm positive." Gilan replied, then moved abruptly out the door before his teacher could ask any more questions. Halt looked up again at his student's hurried form. His apprentice had acted too relieved at the end of the conversation. Unfortunately for Gilan, Halt was going to find out exactly what the boy had been trying to hide. Setting his paper down, Halt rose from his chair, and, putting on his cloak and picking up his massive longbow, stepped out the door.

* * *

"You're late."

Gilan's energetic walk faltered. "Don't sound so angry, Charlotte. I'm here now." The apprentice replied quickly. Charlotte's face remained angry.

"Today I want you to climb that big tree in the courtyard. And you can't use any of your Ranger magic!" The ginger haired girl said.

Gilan stifled a sigh. "I've told you, it isn't magic; it's skill." For the past three days, ever since Charlotte had recognized him as a Ranger, the young market girl had been challenging him to ridiculous stunts, to apparently "prove that he wasn't a dark magician". She had been keeping her distance, however, and seemed to exist to ridicule him - as long as she thought she was out of reach, anyway. An intrigued Gilan, though nearing the end of his fuse, had decided to play along.

"Prove it." Charlotte taunted. Her eyes narrowed as she caught sight of the double knife scabbard. "You brought your knives! I said no Ranger magic!" She quickly backed away, as if fearful that the weapons would fly at her.

Gilan groaned exasperatedly. "I left the cloak and my bow! And it's not magic!" Unsheathing his throwing knife, he aimed at a close tree, ignoring Charlotte's terrified whimper and frantic backwards stumble. Smoothly, the knife left the boy's hand and was embedded deeply into the trunk of the aimed at tree. "See? That happened from skill, which takes practice. No magic."

Charlotte took a hesitant step forward. "I see. No magic. Ranger... Gilan." She faltered at the last word, sounding almost... shy? "I was really hoping that you would turn out to not have dark magic. I've decided to believe you..."

Gilan, who was watching the girl suspiciously, didn't reply.

"You're very handsome, Gilan." Gilan's eyes widened by a large degree at these words, spoken in a almost adoring fashion.

"Excuse me?" He squawked, his turn to take a frantic backwards stumble.

Charlotte's cheeks reddened. "You're handsome. I've - I've liked you for quite a while. I just had to test you to make sure you weren't a sorcerer."

Gilan's face was set in an expression of shock. "Oh?"

Charlotte took a tentative step forward, and pushing herself onto her tip toes, pressed a gentle kiss on Gilan's cheek. Gilan stood tensely, seriously considering the idea of running away. The situation was awkward and hasty and uncomfortable, and it would be prudent to get some distance on his side, because Halt was going to kill him.

"Well, that escalated quickly. I didn't realize you had a girl, Gilan."

Gilan's already rigid body stiffened. Slowly, painfully, the apprentice turned in the direction of the voice of his mentor. Halt was leaning easily against a tree, with a perfect view of the scene before him.

Charlotte glanced rapidly from Gilan to Halt. "Who is that?" The girl asked fearfully.

Halt took a step forward, his long mottled cloak almost blending in with the forest background. "Most people know me by the Ranger Halt."

Charlotte's mouth opened, but no sound immediately came out. Wheeling towards the village, the girl bolted. "MOTHER!"

Halt shook his head as he watched her leave, then turned to his silent apprentice. "Well?"

Gilan took a deep breath, then spouted off quickly, "It wasn't my idea! Don't kill me. She just took a step forward and before I knew what was happening she had kissed me!" He paused, then added, "She's NOT my girlfriend."

Halt raised an eyebrow. "Then why were you here?"

Gilan shrugged. "Proving that Rangers don't have magic."

"That... Is an incredible waste of time." Halt said after a pause, then turned and began walking back in the direction of their cabin, followed by a sheepish Gilan. "Also, you're much too young to have a girlfriend."

"She is NOT my girlfriend!" Gilan flushed.

"Right." Halt said, smirking to himself in the shadow of a cowl.

Gilan moaned. "You're never going to let me live this down."

"Never."

* * *

**I know, not my best work. This chapter proved to be incredibly hard to write, and I'm lucky I even finished it. However, I can see a young Gilan (I imagine him fourteen or fifteen in this one shot) being super awkward and confused around girls. The next chapter will be better, I promise. Requested by The Epic Sparkles: Something about Gilan's swordplay! **

**Please review! It gives me motivation to get chapters up sooner! :)**

**-TrustTheCloak**

**P.S Thanks _so_ much to everyone who has read, reviewed, followed, and favorited!**


	7. Chapter 7

**Requested by The Epic Sparkles.**

* * *

"And that's how you do it!" Gilan finished with flourish, sticking his long, elegant sword point first in the soft ground. He had just concluded giving a very detailed demonstration on the various proper ways to deflect a sword thrust.

Halt blinked, trying to remove the faraway glazed look in his eyes, and answered with as much interest as possible, "Oh."

Gilan looked accusingly at his teacher. "You weren't listening to a word I was saying!"

"I was... No, I wasn't."

Gilan suppressed a moan as he slid his blue-hued blade into its scabbard. "I want to do some real sword practice."

It was Halt's turn to stifle a groan. "You have another practice with MacNeil in two weeks."

Gilan continued as though he hadn't heard Halt's statement. "Mock combat would be fun, I think."

Halt gave a small sigh and replied sarcastically, "Mock combat, of course! You stand here with your sword, and I'll stand fifty paces off with my bow."

Gilan made a face. "That's not mock combat. And I didn't mean with you. I thought maybe I could go to the Battleschool."

Halt raised an eyebrow at the last sentence. "You want to go bang swords with big, lumbering Battleschool apprentices who are twice your size?"

"I'm actually probably taller then most of them." The apprentice said thoughtfully, fiddling with the hilt of his sword.

Halt rolled his eyes and turned to enter the cabin, intending to make coffee. Prolonged conversations with Gilan always required a restorative. "I don't mean height. I mean weight. You're not exactly the most strapping fellow on the field, and you don't have the best history with the Redmont apprentices."

"Please, Halt!" Gilan pleaded. "If you let me go, I'll stop boring you with sword tactics!"

Halt considered the tempting offer. "Fine. Just don't get another bloody nose. You left enough stains on my rug from the _last _one they gave you."

Gilan winced at the memory. "Ugh. That won't happen again." The boy shuddered as he recalled the metallic taste of the blood running into his mouth.

Halt grunted in reply. Pouring himself a mug of the rich, fragrant coffee, he made his way over to his desk. Sitting down, he raised an eyebrow at his still motionless apprentice. "Are you going to leave? Or did you decide that you don't want to go after all?"

The words jerked Gilan into motion. "I'm going!" He called, and darted out the door.

Halt watched the boy run towards the trail to the Battleschool, his green and gray cloak streaming behind him. Taking a sip of his coffee, the Ranger picked up his first report. He had a short meeting at the castle with Baron Arald today. Perhaps he would go to the Battleschool as well. It would be intriguing watching his apprentice in action against Sir Rodney's apprentices. The Redmont Battleschool generally made quite capable warriors. At least, Halt thought gratingly, they might be considered to have slightly more brainpower then the average bash and whacker. Yes, Halt decided, he would go and watch the show.

* * *

The Battleschool could be heard before it could be seen. Halt had Abelard walking easily on a loose rein down the path from the castle. He had just finished his meeting, and was pleased to see that the sword drills were still going on. He wouldn't tell Gilan, of course, but he was rather interested in watching - assuming the Battleschool apprentices hadn't beaten him to a pulp.

Stopping Abelard at the edge of the woods, it only took Halt a short while to pick out his apprentice from Sir Rodney's. While Rodney's pupils were fully decked in chain mail, shields, and drill swords, Gilan, as was his custom, was dressed only in his tunic and breeches, and carried only a practice sword. Not to mention that Gilan looked similar to a stick figure, contrasted against the burly Battleschool students, Halt thought with a frown. Gilan was going to fill out eventually, the Ranger knew, but what he hadn't realized was how rangy his pupil really was. Compared to these boys, Gilan was downright scrawny. Halt made a mental note to start making Gilan eat more.

"Next!" Sir Rodney's booming voice carried across the yard. "Cadet Delbert and Apprentice Gilan." Strictly speaking, Gilan couldn't be labeled as a Cadet, but Rodney was hesitant to say just the boy's name. Titling Gilan as "Apprentice" was his compromise. Delbert moved into position, hefting the wooden drill sword from hand to hand, taking in his opponent. He had watched Gilan in combat against his fellow cadets, and admitted the apprentice Ranger was skilled. Clever and agile, Gilan was a competitor to be reckoned with. But, Delbert thought confidently, he had an advantage. He was a great deal heavier then the apprentice Ranger, and he was willing to bet that he was stronger. The tall, slim boy wouldn't last long against a whirlwind of his constant, powerful sword cuts. Gilan took his stance, sword point politely lowered toward to the earth, and the two boys waited for Sir Rodney's call.

"Begin!"

Delbert made the first move. Raising his sword, he delivered several powerful side cuts. Gilan parried them, staggering slightly at the sheer force behind them. As the opposing sword was moved to deliver an overhand cut, Gilan jumped out of reach, his eyes never leaving the opposition. Moving once again to avoid the sword, he played MacNeil's instructions through his mind, waiting for the right moments to act. _You're not as brawny as most Battleschool students, _The Swordmaster had said. _We can't change that. However, we can compensate for it. You are more lithe, more quick. Use your speed against them. Surprise attacks are your friends._

And then, smoothly and rhythmically, Gilan's sword point flicked forward and tapped Delbert from behind.

Delbert paused, then stiffened, his face flushing. He didn't understand how he had failed to beat this lanky boy, who before the last blow had been using only defensive tactics. "Done!" The Battlemaster called out. "Apprentice Gilan wins."

Gilan lowered his sword point, then offered his hand to shake. Delbert turned to face him, his cheeks still red. Gilan watched the Battleschool apprentice cautiously as the other boy extended his own hand. A few feet away, Delbert's right hand clenched into a fist, and he swung his arm savagely, trying to catch the apprentice Ranger in the face. Gilan ducked, only to be hit by Delbert's left hand a split second later. Gilan's hand flew to his stinging nose, which was gushing blood like a faucet, while Rodney grabbed Delbert's arm and shoved him back towards the other cadets, reprimanding him.

"'Alt's 'oing to ki' me," Gilan moaned thickly as he attempted to stem the flow of blood. Rodney was ending the combat session, ordering his cadets back to their dormitories. Turning to Gilan, the broad Battlemaster addressed him.

"You'd best go home now."

Gilan nodded numbly. "Yes, si'." Turning and picking up his cloak, the boy fastened it on, taking extra time to grab a large fold of the fabric and press it against his face. Moving towards the trail, gingerly dabbing at his nose, Gilan contemplated how he would approach his exasperated mentor.

* * *

Halt had left his viewpoint almost immediately after he saw Delbert clench his fist. Cantering Abelard back to cabin, he quickly unsaddled his horse and settled himself in his chair. For all intents and purposes, it looked like he had never left. Several minutes later, he recognized Gilan's step on the porch. "Stop! Wait out there." He called quickly.

"'M blee'ing!" Came the indignant reply.

"Yes. Stay out there until it stops. I don't want my home to look like a murder scene." Halt responded with a wince as he caught sight of his blood covered apprentice through the window.

Gilan's long sigh was wasted by the need to cough. "Cou' you dow me a wag, den? 'M cloak id nas'y."

Halt pinched the bridge of his nose. "You couldn't find anything else to wipe the blood? You had to use your cloak, of all things." The grizzled Ranger said in a long suffering tone.

"Sworry."

"At least it's not on my rug this time." Halt muttered in an undertone, tossing an old rag through the window.

"Um, Halt?" The boy's voice was clearer now, but very hesitant. "Remember how you had me take the rug outside to air it out...?"

Halt's head landed on his desk. "We are never playing with Battleschool apprentices again!"

* * *

**The ending was weak, but I wanted to get it up. This is a pretty direct reference to my story _Avenging a Bloody Nose_. **

**Please review! They make my day! Next chapter: Requested by everything ecstatic, Gilan pulls yet another prank on Halt. ;)**

**-TrustTheCloak**


	8. Chapter 8

**Requested by everything ecstatic.**

* * *

Gilan's infectious laugh rang through the relative quiet of the Gathering Grounds. The young apprentice was sitting at a campfire with the Commandant, Crowley. Halt had gone to visit some of his other comrades - the Rangers, though a tight-knit group, were very busy and rarely were able to visit each other for social means.

"He-he didn't!" The tall apprentice managed to choke out through his mirth.

Crowley grinned, his hazel eyes bright with amusement. "I swear, he did. Halt's bow slipped, and that big brown battlehorse _bucked_. Halt's face was as pale as a sheet." Crowley gave a snort of laughter at the memory.

It was pure bad luck that Halt had chosen that moment to return. Giving Crowley a withered glare, Halt said dryly, "Stop poisoning his mind, Crowley."

"You rode a battlehorse, Halt?" Gilan cut in, still giggling.

Halt glared at Crowley again. Turning to enter his tent, the gray bearded Ranger replied gratingly, "Giggling is for girls, Gilan."

* * *

After Halt had taken his indignant leave, Crowley, an impish grin on his face, had taken Gilan and laid out a foundation for a prank. Gilan had enthusiastically agreed.

_~Flashback~_

_"I'll get Halt away from his bow. Then-" Crowley began._

_"How?" Gilan interrupted. He had originally been intimidated by the Commandant, but Crowley was sportive and genuinely likable. Gilan also held him in some awe, not only because he was the Commandant, but also because he could tease Halt, and didn't seem worried about any consequences - though, that might come with the rank of being Commandant. "How will you get him away from his bow? He never goes anywhere without the thing." _

_Crowley waved his hand, unconcerned. "That's for me to worry about. You are in charge of this." He gestured to a small jar of what was unmistakably tree sap. The redheaded Ranger was always an advocate of pranking his grim faced best friend; however, no one ever had the nerve to assist him. Halt was an intimidating figure, even to other Rangers. This, Crowley reasoned, was why he had warmed so quickly to Gilan. In Halt's apprentice was an ally, because in Crowley's experience, apprentices could never resist bothering their masters. "Slather this on where he holds it."_

_Gilan took the jar, a mischievous smile on his face. "Ok. Let's get started."_

_~End Flashback~_

* * *

"Halt!"

Gilan looked alertly at the sound of Crowley's voice. His mentor had moved from his tent to the campfire, and looked in the direction of his friend's voice.

"Halt, I need you." Crowley continued now that he knew he had caught the other man's attention. "Some of the first year apprentices keep dropping their bow hand. I was thinking if they saw the best and were given a few pointers, they would work a little harder to fix it."

Halt raised an eyebrow. "They should already be working harder to fix it," he countered quietly.

Crowley groaned. "Don't argue with your Commandant, Halt."

Halt sighed, then stood, picking up his longbow as he did so. Crowley, however, shook his head. "Not with your longbow. The technique is a bit different than the recurve. I have a recurve bow ready for you."

Halt paused, then set his bow down. "Aren't you needy?" He muttered in an undertone. Crowley caught the words, but elected not to comment. Turning toward the archery field, the two friends began walking.

After they left, Gilan quickly glided out of the trees. Taking the jar of sap from his belt, the boy removed the lip, and, using a small rag, proceeded to wipe the sticky liquid over the smooth wood of Halt's bow. His part finished, Gilan, after a quick glance around him, quietly hurried away.

* * *

"Only one of them was dropping his bow hand." Halt chastised Crowley as they walked back to their tents. Crowley had set up his tent near Halt and Gilan's, due to the friendship that he and the former shared - after all, they had reformed the Corps together. Halt continued, "I'm anxious to shoot my bow again after playing with that recurve."

"What do you say, then?" Crowley asked, far too innocently. "Say we go shoot like men before dark?"

Halt cast Crowley a suspicious glance, but none the less picked up his longbow. His forehead creased, then his eyebrows pulled together in anger. "GILAN! WHAT DID YOU DO TO MY BOW!?"

Gilan, who was very nearly back at their campsite when Halt's very angry voice made itself heard, stopped in his tracks. Halt had never sounded that angry before, and Gilan couldn't help but wonder if he had gone a few steps too far.

Halt, whose gaze had landed on his tall, slim, and very scared looking apprentice, began to stalk toward him, looking almost like a wildcat moving in for the kill.

"It was Crowley's idea!" The boy yelped as he turned and ran.

Crowley was on his feet and running the moment Halt had began moving toward his apprentice. At Gilan's words, Halt whirled around. "CROWLEY!" He roared.

Crowley and Gilan spent the rest of the evening running from a very angry grey bearded someone. Gilan eventually resorted to scurrying up a tree, Crowley soon following suit. Gilan had learned Halt had never been willing to chase his apprentice up trees - probably, Gilan thought dully, because he could wait at the bottom to prevent his student from coming down. Trees were a last ditch effort, but right now, they sounded considerably better then facing a still furious Halt.

* * *

"You shouldn't hold your Commandant hostage in a tree, Halt!" Crowley called down some hours later. Halt had settled himself at the base of the pine with water, soap, and a tub of butter, and worked to remove the sap from his precious bow.

"You shouldn't put sap on Halt's bow, Crowley!" Halt mimicked.

Gilan moaned. "This is bad enough for you, Crowley, but I have to live with him!"

And Halt's satisfied voice floated up to them. "You know that's right!"

* * *

**I had zero writers block with this chapter. :D Please review! **

**I love writing Crowley. He's such a fun, easygoing character, In The Royal Ranger, he is described as having had an impish sense of humor, and I love in the Sorcerer of the North when he cracks up over the song Greybeard Halt. Thus, I can totally imagine him loving to tease and prank Halt. Next chapter: Requested by Sage Clover - Halt and the Double Knife Defense theory vs Gilan...**

**-TrustTheCloak**

**P.S. Just wanted to give a huge thank you to all who have reviewed, favorited, and followed! You have no idea how much I appreciate it!**


	9. Chapter 9

**Requested by Sage Clover.**

* * *

"Halt?" Gilan asked, glancing up from where he was oiling his saxe knife. There was heavy wind and rain outside, but inside the neat little cabin, Halt and his apprentice were quite comfortable next to the warm, crackling fire, with Gilan inspecting his weapons and Halt reading the latest happenings on the fief.

Halt grunted in reply. Gilan took the noise as a sign to continue. "I've been thinking a lot about this..."

"Always a dangerous pastime," Halt replied in a distracted fashion, turning the page of the report. Inwardly, however, he was smirking to himself as he often did after saying one of his favorite lines.

Gilan sighed. "That line is getting old, Halt," he mumbled, before continuing in a clearer voice. "It's about the double knife defense."

At this point, Halt's dark eyes look up. "What about it?" The Ranger asked, dropping the disinterested pretense. He had yet to discuss the subject with his student, though it was perfectly logical for Gilan to have learned about it in the Battleschool.

"They taught us how to block sword cuts - side cuts, overhead cuts, under cuts. We practiced deflecting thrusts using only the larger blade." Gilan's forehead creased in thought. "But that was all. They didn't teach us how to defend ourselves against anything else."

Halt paused, then made a rolling gesture with his hand, sensing that Gilan had more to say.

"Well, not all attacks are from swords," The boy finished in a matter of fact tone.

Halt raised an eyebrow. "That's true," he said carefully. He wasn't quite sure where his student was headed, but he was growing rather suspicious.

Gilan sheathed his saxe knife and began working on his throwing knife. "I asked Sir Gerron what to do if I ran into, say, an axeman. He went very quiet for a moment, then got rather gruff and told me to be quiet and finish the drill."

Halt gave an exasperated snort. "And of course, that wasn't the first time that he told you that." Indeed, Halt himself had told Gilan a good number of times to stop talking and do his practice.

Gilan bit his lip. "Well, he had, I suppose... Anyway, moving on, what do I do if I run into an axeman? Will the two knives work then?"

Halt paused, still suspicious that he was being drawn into a trap, then answered, sarcasm weaved into his words. "If you ever bring your archery skills up to mediocrity, no axemen will be bothering you."

Gilan looked affronted. His archery skills were actually very decent. He acknowledged the fact that he still had a long way to go, but Halt was being rather harsh. Sarcasm, however, was a game that Gilan knew only too well how to play. "And if my skills never do reach mediocrity?" The boy replied, his voice dripping with as much sarcasm as Halt's.

Halt's sensed the challenge. "Your unseen movement skills aren't entirely cringe worthy." Halt said snidely.

Gilan smirked in a decidedly triumphant way. "I'm cornered against a cliff, and my archery skills are appalling. What do I do then?"

Halt glared at his apprentice. Gilan could be too snarky for his own good. "In your case, you have a sword that you could swing blindly around and hope it hits something."

Gilan shook his head, the smirk that Halt was beginning to despise still on his face. "Can't. The axeman already sent it flying out of my hands before he cornered me. And," Gilan added before Halt could stall anymore, "my strikers got lost over the cliff edge. In that situation, what do I do?"

If looks could kill, Gilan would have been dead several times over. "Then you use your overly large head to think your way out of the impossible situation you created!" Halt snapped, ready to be done with the conversation. "I wonder, what ingenious idea would you come up with?"

Gilan paused, then answered in a dead serious tone, all signs of banter gone. "I suppose... I suppose I would choose the cliff."

Halt raised an eyebrow at this. "You would jump off the cliff?" He said skeptically. He hadn't considered that.

Gilan nodded, warming to his answer. "It would be neater, cleaner, faster. Altogether less messy then getting split in half by an axe."

Halt rolled his eyes, turning back to his papers. Apprentices and their ideas, Halt decided, could be thoroughly exhausting. "And if someone approached you with a similar conversation, that is how you would answer?"

Gilan nodded. "Yes. I think so. Anyway," Gilan continued, sounding rather pleased, "I'll be better prepared then you. I'll probably be approached with this conversation at some point."

Halt gave a long suffering sigh. "Not likely. No single person could be as annoying as you."

Gilan opened his mouth to protest, then stopped. "That's probably true."

* * *

**Yikes. Three months. Sorry about that. I had writers block that refused to wane. This isn't my favorite chapter, but it's something. Next chapter - Requested by Mac Gustah, something that involves Pauline or a young Will... It's going to be Pauline and an embarrassed Halt. The wait shouldn't be as long this time. As always, I love reviews!  
**

**-TrustTheCloak**


	10. Chapter 10

**Requested by Mac Gustah.**

* * *

"Martin can be so pompous at times," Halt said irritably as he strode through a corridor in Castle Redmont. His tall young apprentice nodded vigorously in reply. Halt, in the way that annoyed people with do, continued with his rant. "I mean, the man doesn't know when to stop ta-"

Halt was cut off as he distractedly bumped into none other then the tall, elegant Lady Pauline, who had just emerged from a side room. Gilan, in the smooth, athletic way of youth, had swerved artfully to the side to avoid her. Halt, distracted as he was, had not.

"Lady Pauline! My apologies," Halt said hastily, quickly scooping up the papers he had knocked from Pauline's long, slim fingers.

Pauline graciously accepted the papers back. "Of course, Halt. No harm done," she answered in her smooth, measured voice.

Halt inclined his head. "If you'll excuse us then, Lady."

Pauline nodded gracefully, then continued up the corridor. Halt, his expression soft, couldn't help turning to watch her leave. Someday, he promised himself, he would ask her to marry him. Several seconds later, his mesmerism was unfortunately broken by the voice of his apprentice.

"So... Lady Pauline?" Gilan queried curiously. Gilan was highly observant, and hadn't missed the way Halt's face had softened, the way his voice had risen slightly in pitch.

Halt's dark eyebrows furrowed. He recognized that overly innocent tone that Gilan would adopt, and was rightfully suspicious it. "What about her?" He asked coldly.

Gilan continued, pretending to ignore his mentor's increasingly dangerous tone. "She's very beautiful... Even you must think that!"

Halt scowled, wishing his cowl was up and desperately hoping he wasn't blushing. "No, no, and no! I am not discussing this with _you_! Have a ever mentioned how utterly annoying you can be? I think I have."

"More annoying than Martin, Halt?"

Halt scowled again. "Fine! Not quite as annoying as Martin, but that's still quite enough!" And with a swish of his cloak, Halt began purposefully striding down the aisle again, feeling exceedingly ruffled and half wishing he could banish his too clever for his own good apprentice to somewhere unpleasant.

Gilan paused a moment, adding to his mental notes that the Lady Pauline could fluster Halt, possibly the most stoic man Gilan had ever met. "Interesting..." He murmured to himself, then hurriedly turned to catch up with his mentor.

* * *

"Monica?" Gilan asked, sounding slightly of of breath from where he was forcefully kneading the bread dough, forming it into a loaf and moving to slide it into the oven.

Monica was a young, slim, pretty brunette woman who ran an inn in Wensley village called the Blue Bird. She had surprisingly befriended Halt some time ago, after the grizzled Ranger had chased some rather unsavory men out of her little inn. Now, whenever Halt was called away and was unable to take his young apprentice, Gilan was left in the care of Monica. The young woman greatly enjoyed the cheerful, lively boy's company, and had found that his seemingly limitless energy made the usually rather tiring, straight-forward task of kneading bread dough an ideal assignment - though he was intelligent and polite, his kitchen skills were sadly lacking.

"Yes, Gil?" She answered brightly, using her forearm to wipe her forehead. "Mind the oven! Halt won't be pleased if you burn yourself! Halt says last time you did it, you weren't able to hold a bow properly for a week."

"I'll be careful," Gilan assured her with a short laugh, successfully depositing the bread. "And I wanted to know how to... um... plan a romantic evening?"

Monica laughed. "Have a special lass in mind, Gil? Lucky girl."

Gilan blushed. "No, no, not for me! I wanted to plan it for Halt."

Monica's bright green eyes sparkled. "Halt? In that case..."

The two friends spent the rest of the evening having an enjoyable discussion. By the time Gilan helped Monica serve dinner, he thought Halt had quite the evening coming his way.

* * *

"Halt, Monica wants to serve you dinner tonight." Gilan said, not looking up from his geography exercise.

"Why?" Halt responded disinterestedly, signing his name at the bottom of a report to the Baron.

Gilan shrugged. "As a welcome home and as a thank you for lending me to her. She says I was very helpful."

Halt slowly nodded. Halt didn't have the heart to refuse her, in case it hurt her feelings - it also helped that Monica was a wonderful cook. "All right then. I'll have to run this report to the Baron first. Martin will probably rope me into a conversation." Halt shuddered at the thought.

"I'll take it." Gilan offered.

Halt raised an eyebrow. "I suppose it's only fair that you take your turn of Martin's insufferable attitude."

Gilan nodded, inwardly wincing. "Of course, Halt. Only fair."

Halt sealed the envelope, then slid it across the table into his apprentice's waiting fingers. "Will you be coming to Monica's after?"

Gilan nodded. "I thought I'd help with the dinner rush. It's a lot of work, and she hasn't much help." Gilan answered truthfully. He fully intended to help his friend. It was a hard job for one so young. He added with a wry smile, "And she made me promise that I would come get a plum tart."

Halt snorted. "You're spoiled." Inwardly, however, he felt the same way. Monica was a lovely girl, barely twenty. So much work was required in running the inn that she rarely had time to do do anything that most girls her age were doing. He decided then that a project to make her life easier was needed in the future. He made a shooing motion to his apprentice. "Off you go, then. The sooner you leave, the sooner you can lug trays around for Monica - and eat your plum tart." Halt inwardly sighed. The last thing Gilan needed was something sugary to fuel his already endless energy, but this time he would let it slide.

"I think she and and I will enjoy tonight very much," Gilan answered casually, then turned to the door to get Blaze. _Almost as much as you and Pauline will!_ He thought gleefully.

* * *

Gilan exited the Baron's quarters. Martin had indeed cornered him into a conversation - literally backing him into the wall until he replied to the short but loud man. Gilan shook his head irritably. He might have been there all night until he had unsheathed his saxe knife and began to play with it in boredom in an attempt to back the overbearing man off. It had taken to just barely touching the knife to his finger and opening a thin cut before Martin had gotten the point. Gilan shrugged philosophically. Halt had once told him, _Your fingers are your greatest tools. Take care of them, _but just this once, considering it was Martin, Gilan thought Halt would understand.

The tall boy climbed the staircase to Lady Pauline's office. He knocked lightly, then entered as a calm, measured voice called for him to come in.

The tall, elegant woman was seated at her mahogany desk, reading a paper. She was dressed in her usual simple but beautiful white Courier's gown, and her smooth blond hair was swept to the side in a loose braid. "Good evening," She said pleasantly, setting the paper down.

Gilan bowed then said politely, "As Monica's, keeper of the Blue Bird Inn, unofficial assistant, I wondered if I might escort you to your dinner?"

Monica had sent a note the previous day, inviting Pauline to an evening at her inn, free of charge. Pauline had accepted, knowing the bright young woman would assure a pleasant evening. Pauline always enjoyed some leeway from the castle, and whenever she could, Pauline almost always went to Monica's inn.

Pauline, controlled in her emotions though she was, couldn't help a small smile tug at her lips at the normally cheerful, smiling youth's grave manner. "Gilan, isn't it? Halt's apprentice?"

Gilan flashed a quick grin, then gave another quick bow. "Not tonight, my Lady. Tonight I am simply your humble escort."

Pauline stood, wrapping a light green shawl around her shoulders. "In that case, I would be delighted to have you escort me."

Gilan held his arm out. Pauline gracefully stepped forward and hooked her elbow through his. Gilan's height meant she was able to stand totally erect as she did it. If it had been Halt, Pauline mused to herself, she would have had to stoop just a little. Not that that bothered her.

Together, the two of them exited the castle and headed down the path to Monica's warm, cheery inn.

* * *

Something was up. Halt could physically _feel_ it. From the secluded table, to the flickering scented candle, from Monica's amused glances. _Especially _from Monica's glances.

"Here you are Halt, tonight's special. Roast duck with a light salad, and some garlic bread." Monica set the tray down, brushing her hands off on her crisp white apron. "Gilan made the bread." The girl added with a smile.

Halt eyed it skeptically. "Are you sure it's edible?"

Monica laughed merrily. "It's fine! I watched him. He kneads the bread better then I can. He's a good help - and a good boy."

Halt gave her a small smile - she was one of the few people who could elicit a smile from him. "You work too hard, Mon."

Monica brushed the comment aside. "It's fine! And what do you know? Here comes Gilan now!" Excitement underlay-ed her tone.

Halt shifted in his seat to see where Monica was gazing. And felt his stomach drop.

Walking beside his widely grinning, springy stepping apprentice, was none other then Lady Pauline.

"I'll bring out another plate." Monica said, turning hurriedly to the kitchen.

Halt swallowed thickly, subtly running his hand through his hair in an attempt to smooth it. Oh, Gilan was going to sleep in a tree for a year...

"Why, Halt, Pauline is here for dinner as well!" Gilan said, feigning surprise, eagerly motioning Pauline into the seat across from Halt's. Monica arrived, with another plate of the scrumptious smelling roast duck. Monica, a wide smile lighting up her pretty face, gently tugged Gilan's sleeve.

"We'll leave you to it! Dinner isn't going to serve itself!"

Halt watched the two young people go, disbelief in his eyes. Monica and Gilan were now stealing quick backwards glances, then dissolving into quiet fits of giggles that their plan had so perfectly succeeded. Shaking his head at it all, he turned back to the blond woman across from him.

"Well then... um..." He began awkwardly. Pauline graced him with one of her lovely smiles, secretly thanking Gilan and Monica for their devious plot.

"Shall we humor them?"

Halt exhaled slowly. "Why not?" Gilan might sleep in a tree for a month - Halt wasn't sure yet. But although Gilan didn't know, Halt would always be rather grateful to his annoying, impulsive, wonderful apprentice for setting up this evening.

And it wasn't like Halt was ever going to tell him!

* * *

**Oh, this was fun. This update didn't take as long! Sort of... I don't any lame excuses, unfortunately. Next chapter - Requested by Zhia - Gilan vs the cabin's porch steps (There is a line in The Burning Bridge where Halt says that Gilan must have stumbled up that front step a thousand times). I already have an outline for it, so hopefully not too long of a wait (Meh, knock on wood.) As always, I love reviews!  
**

**Cheers!**

**TrustTheCloak**


	11. Chapter 11

**Requested by Zhia.**

* * *

"Halt! Halt!"

The named Ranger glanced up from where he was stirring spices into the simmering stew on the stove. Sighing, he set the spoon down and moved toward the half open door. "Gilan, I swear, if you've braided another ribbon into Abelard's mane..." he trailed off. "Gilan, what are you doing?"

Gilan was standing bareback on Blaze, his long arms held out to the side for balance. The bay mare was standing placidly, her head down to crop the green grass. "I saw these trick riders today in the riding ring at the castle. They can do handstands, and run the horses while they're standing-" He broke off, teetering as Blaze took a step toward a particularly tasty-looking piece of grass.

Halt pinched the bridge of his nose. "Gilan, get down before you break your neck."

Gilan sighed sadly and complied. "It would have been fun. Can't you imagine me doing a handstand on Blaze?" As he said this, the tall blonde boy attempted a handstand, instead overshooting and landing with an grunt on his back.

Halt shook his head. "Oddly enough, no, I can't. Dinner will be ready soon. Make yourself useful and set the table."

"Alright," Gilan said, getting to his feet and straightening his tunic. Following Halt towards the cabin stairs, the boy's face widened into a smile as an idea struck him. "Halt, what if someone did a cartwheel on a horse? I mean, it obviously wouldn't work while the horse was moving, but maybe you could do one while the horse was standing as a way to-" Whatever Gilan had been about to say was cut off as he tripped halfway up the stairs, effectively causing him to fall.

Halt blinked. "You realize that's the third time you've fallen going up the stairs in the past week. Stairs shouldn't be that difficult."

Gilan grumbled as he climbed to his feet. "I wasn't watching and I missed a step. It happens when you have long legs, you know. Well, you might not..." And with what little dignity he had left, Gilan strode into the cabin, his head turned so that Halt couldn't see his smirk.

Halt frowned, his eyes narrowing. "Sarcasm is so very ugly on you, boy!" he called grumpily. Oh, the woes of having an apprentice with enough sarcasm to match his own. "At least I don't trip on something as simple as the six stairs on our porch!"

* * *

"Gilan, put some gloves on, for pities sake. It's cold enough outside that if you don't, your fingers will be red, swollen and numb by the time we get back," Halt said as he pulled his cloak on. The Ranger knew of his student's strong dislike of gloves (he claimed that they were too bulky) and knew that if he didn't insist, Gilan would simply rather suffer through the cold then wear them.

Gilan groaned and pulled the left glove on. "They're just so big!" he complained. "I can barely move my fingers."

Halt raised his eyebrow. "That's an exaggeration. Come on." The Ranger opened the cabin door to be met with a gust of wind and snowflakes. "We're practicing unseen movement today."

Gilan visibly brightened, as Halt had known he would. Gilan was a natural at unseen movement. All Rangers were trained to do it, and all were experts at it, but Gilan could take it to another level. Together, the teacher and student moved onto the porch, each taking a deep breath of the cool, crisp winter air. Gilan smiled, the cold already turning the tip of his nose red. Taking a large bound, Gilan started down the stairs.

And slipped as his foot hit a patch of ice.

His arms flailing, the boy would have spectacularly face planted had Halt's hand not shot out and grabbed his collar. Hauling his student back upright, Halt grunted. "You've got to learn to slow down. You're too hasty; if you had looked closer you would've noticed the ice."

Gilan bit his lip and regretted it a second later. He always got exceptionally dry skin in the winter, and biting his lip had made a crack open. "Sorry. You're right."

Halt nodded, noting the sincerity in his student's words. A second later he said thoughtfully, "You know, if I had a royal for every time you've fallen up or down the stairs, I'd be a rich man."

Gilan bit his lip again, opening another crack. He tasted a spot of blood on his tongue and shuddered. "It's not that bad."

Halt raised an eyebrow. "Hmm. That's up for debate."

* * *

Halt eyed the repaired veranda critically. A heavy wind storm had sent a tree crashing through the porch roof, and Arald had sent men to do repairs on it, using funds set aside for the Ranger of the fief. The men had done a good job repairing, but had made slight variations from the original, including the height. Just looking at it, the Ranger could already tell it was too short for his tall, lanky apprentice. Halt could walk under it without a problem, but it would certainly swipe Gilan's forehead. Halt shrugged. They could fix it later; in the mean time, Halt made a mental note to remind his apprentice to duck.

Several minutes later, Halt had set a pot of coffee boiling and was sitting comfortably in his chair when the door burst open, letting in wind, leaves, and a very windswept Gilan. Halt couldn't help giving a faint smile. Gilan, with his tousled blonde hair scattered with dried leaves, his red cheeks, his slightly upward titled nose pink and running slightly, and with a bright smile that seemed to radiate happiness to everything around him. _How did I get so lucky? _Halt mused to himself, then quickly wiped the smile from his face as he scolded himself. _Getting sentimental in my old age._

"Bit of a breeze out there," Gilan greeted, shaking the debris from his hair. Halt snorted at the massive understatement. The youth continued, "The veranda looks great, by the way, but it feels shorter then I remembered. I felt like I had to duck..." Gilan trailed off, his forehead creased in thought, though it cleared a second later. "It might just be me. Anyway..."

Halt took a sip of his freshly poured coffee. "I shot some venison for Monica," the Ranger said, nodding to the wrapped packages on the table. "You might consider taking it to her, if you don't mind going back out into that gale."

Gilan immediately nodded. "Sure," he said, picking up the packages. "It's not that bad out there." Halt, once again, felt a surge of fondness for his ever willing apprentice.

"Don't be too long. I'll start a stew." Halt offered, and Gilan nodded.

"I'll be back in a bit," Gilan said, then swinging open the cabin door, braced himself and bolted out into the heavy wind. Halt, for a reason he didn't know, felt the need to call out a warning.

"Mind the veranda!" He called quickly, a second too late.

THUD. A tumbling sound, followed by resumed footsteps.

Halt winced at the sound. "We'll really have to fix that veranda," he said to himself. A moment later he continued thoughtfully, "Two hundred and seventy seven. Hmm."

* * *

Halt sighed as Gilan tripped. Again. "How, pray tell, do you honestly manage to still trip on those insignificant stairs? You've lived in this cabin for four and a half years, about?"

Gilan irritably stood, glaring at the offending step. "We need wider stairs. I naturally want to take a longer step, but the stupid stair always gets in the way."

"Take a shorter stride."

Gilan groaned. "It's easy for you! These steps are Halt-sized!"

Halt raised in eyebrow. "Halt-sized? I think of them as more average Ranger sized. It's not my fault your height's enough to be bothersome."

"It's not mine, either! Blame my parents."

Halt paused momentarily, unable to come up with a suitable comeback to Gilan's rather accurate statement. Slightly miffed, the Ranger changed the subject to a conversation he could win. "Do you know exactly how many times you've tripped on those steps? I do."

Gilan raised an eyebrow (it bothered Halt that Gilan was such a natural at one of his pet expressions) and answered dubiously, "The exact number?"

Halt nodded smugly. "Including that stumble from just now, you've tripped exactly eight hundred and three times."

Gilan blinked. "You've got to be kidding. You've kept track of every single stumble?"

"The ones that I've seen or heard, anyway. There's been more, I'm sure."

Gilan shook his head in disbelief. "Halt, most people have better things to do with their lives then memorize the exact number of how many times their apprentice has tripped on the stairs."

Halt raised an eyebrow. "Most apprentices don't stumble on the stairs enough times to warrant counting."

Gilan sighed in defeat. "Touché... Though I doubt anyone cares but you, Halt."

* * *

**So... That didn't turn out how I expected. It did in some ways, but didn't in others. The format is quite a bit different then the other chapters, but I felt it had to be to help convey the plot. I don't know. It turned into as much a look into Halt and Gilan's personal life as it did a humorous approach. Anyway, it's up, (thankfully, I'd been stressing over writing it because it wasn't turning out right), and I apologize if it wasn't what was expected. The next chapter will be fun! As requested by KiliandFiliGirl, Gilan gets a ridiculous pet-like thing, and Halt is not at all amused.**

**As always, please read and review!**

**-TrustTheCloak**


	12. Chapter 12

**Requested by KiliandFiliGirl.**

* * *

Halt approached the door of his cabin, intent on making a cup of coffee. He had just sent his reports on their way to Araluen fief, and while it wasn't _that _much work, it was still enough that Halt figured it warranted a mug of the dark, fragrant beverage. Though, given enough time, Halt could probably warrant a coffee for any time or reason. It could already be made, Halt mused, since Gilan had been home alone all morning. The boy had learned to like the beverage almost as much as his mentor. The downside to that, Halt had decided, was that it fueled Gilan's already limitless energy.

Speaking of limitless energy, the Ranger winced at the sound of crashing. Silently cursing himself for leaving his young apprentice alone after a day of being cooped up inside due to terrible weather, Halt braced himself as he eased the cabin door open.

It was worse then what he had prepared himself for. His curtains were torn, pots were strewn across the floor, and the vase with the fresh yellow wildflowers lay shattered, the water running off the edge of the table. And in the midst of it all was his rather disheveled apprentice, concentrating intently on keeping the little weight his slim, lean body possessed over a large cooking pot.

Halt momentarily closed his eyes to attempt to compose himself. "Gilan, what did you do to my home?"

Gilan jumped slightly. "Halt! You're back! I wasn't expecting you to be home so soon!"

Halt's eyes narrowed. "Clearly. Which brings us back to my original question, what did you do to my home?"

"Um, well, you see... I was planning to clean up a bit before you got home, but, well, obviously you got home before I could do that, but -" He broke off the the pot jerked.

Halt studied the dish with a raised eyebrow. "What on earth is that?" To his surprise, Gilan face suddenly broke into a grin.

"A raccoon, Halt!" The apprentice said triumphantly, readjusting himself slightly as the cooking pot he was holding down gave a rather angry snarl. "It took some work - sorry, the curtains took a beating - but I got it!"

Halt blanched, immediately forgetting about the cabin in favor of this new discovery. "A raccoon?! That is a vicious, wild animal, Gilan! They have diseases! It, it could be rabid!"

Gilan's smile faded. "Would this be a bad time to ask to keep it?"

"NO! We are not keeping a wild, illness carrying animal in the cabin! What if it scratched someone, or bit someone?" Halt replied vehemently, so busy running through scenarios in his mind on how to get the animal out of his life that he nearly missed Gilan's fleetingly panicked look. "What?" He said, slightly harsher then he intended, thought only slightly.

"Nothing," Gilan replied, too quickly to be believed. "Nothing at all." As he said this, the boy unconsciously slipped his left hand behind his back.

Halt's eyes narrowed, noting the quick response and the movement Gilan's hand. "Show me your hand. Now." He said, his tone brooking no arguments.

Immediately, Gilan offered his right hand toward his mentor. Halt swatted it away. "Your other hand!" he snapped, now more certain then ever that something was wrong.

Defeated, Gilan slowly offered his left hand. "It was an accident..." On Gilan's hand were two puncture marks, the skin around it red and already swelling.

Halt's breath caught. "It BIT you?" He hissed, his voice much less gentle then his hands as he carefully examined the wound. It was Gilan's wince when his finger brushed against it that made Halt's mind up. "We're going to the castle. Now."

Gilan cocked his head. "You mean the infirmary?" The boy asked, confused. "For just this? I don't think we need to."

Halt nodded, trying to keep the panic out of his voice. "I don't really care. We are going to the infirmary for a healer."

Gilan made a face. He hated the infirmary, though he seemed to end up there quite often. "Please, Halt!" Gilan pleaded. "You can patch me up, and I won't complain, I promise!"

Halt shook his head, and grabbing Gilan's right arm, hauled him to his feet. The cooking pot jerked forward, Halt quickly stepped on it. Motioning for Gilan to stay back, Halt inched the pot forward until it was almost to the door. "The windows are shut?" Halt asked warily, watching the pot as though fearful it would explode. Gilan responded positively, and, taking a deep breath, as though he were about to dive into deep water, Halt slightly shoved, slightly kicked the pot out the door, then slammed the door shut as the pot was barely out the door. Doing up both locks, Halt strode to the window and peered out, glaring at the animal that was scampering across the clearing back into the forest. "Furry menace," the Ranger muttered, staring at the spot it had disappeared.

Gilan sighed. "It took me all morning to catch," he said sadly. "And I named it Dipper."

Halt snorted, tearing his gaze from the window. "We don't name wild animals. And if we did name them, we wouldn't name it 'Dipper', we would name it 'Little Terror'. Let's go."

Stepping onto the porch, Halt looked around the clearing before cautiously making his way toward the stables. Quickly saddling Abelard, Halt walked him out, finding Gilan in Blaze's stall, struggling to saddle her as he favored his left hand. "Leave it, Gilan. I'm not letting you ride."

Gilan's eyes widened in disbelief. "So you're making me walk."

Halt's eyes flicked nervously down to Gilan's hand before answering. "So I'm making you ride on Abelard."

"No."

"You've done it before!" Halt said, rapidly losing patience. "When you got stung by that bee!"

Gilan gave a short bark of laughter. "That was different. I was barely conscious. This would be embarrassing!"

Halt was not in the mood to banter. His voice slipping into the, don't-you-dare-argue-if-you-know-what's-good-for-you-boy tone, he answered, "Gilan. Get on the horse. Now."

When Halt pulled that tone, Gilan knew he had lost. "Alright, then." Expectantly, he waited for his teacher to mount so he could get on behind. Halt, however, shook his head.

"You're in front. I don't want you irritating that hand."

"You're mother henning," Gilan mumbled, turning to climb on, flinching as he grabbed onto the pommel to pull himself on with his injured hand. Seeing this, Halt boosted his student up. "Definitely mother henning."

Halt ignored this; mostly because it was true. Swinging on behind Gilan, Halt gathered up his reins. Giving Abelard a squeeze, the horse sprang into his ground covering canter, up the path to the castle.

* * *

"Don't get that wrap wet," Halt called from where he was reading reports (he swore, they were never ending) as Gilan awkwardly tried to wash dishes one handed. Despite his initial "overprotective" reaction, he had decided his student could still do his evening chores. For a moment, Gilan was tempted to dunk his left hand into the dish water, just to be obstinate, but then decided against it; he really didn't need another lecture on infections.

The castle healer had cleaned the wound with a disinfectant (which had HURT like nothing else), then applied an herb paste to draw out infection, finishing with a large, thick bandage, with instructions to keep it dry and to change it daily.

Flopping onto the couch, Gilan sighed, fiddling with the loose end of the bandage, earning him a glare from Halt. Hastily tucking the end back in, Gilan spoke, "This is tedious. This club thing that's supposed to be a hand. It's even more annoying then gloves."

"Next time you won't mess with wild animals," Halt replied, giving his student a "_right?" _look.

Gilan cocked his head, considering. "Right. I would like a pet, though."

The older Ranger raised an eyebrow. "You have a horse."

"I suppose." Gilan answered reluctantly. "Speaking of horses, I saw a fox den out by the stables..."

"WHAT?"

"Just kidding! Mostly..."

* * *

**An update! Crazy, right? I don't really have any excuses, besides having a rather busy life and writers block. Hope you all enjoy this one, anyway.**

**Next chapter, requested by Amanda. Racette, Gilan visits his parents!**

**Please review!**

**-TrustTheCloak**


	13. Chapter 13

**Requested by Amanda. Racette.**

* * *

"I'm so excited!"

Halt sighed once again at the perky voice and animated movements of his young apprentice. "So you've said." Still, Gilan continued, because he was nothing if not persistent.

"It's been the longest time since I've been home."

Halt raised an eyebrow in disbelief. "The 'longest time'? We were there a month ago for a session with MacNeil!" Gilan spread his arms in a 'there you have it' gesture. Blaze, her reins laying on her neck as Gilan spoke and moved, gave the closest thing a horse could do to a long suffering look.

"Exactly. A month is practically forever ago," the boy said, and Halt humphed. Young people, always living in the moment and giving no thought to the long term, he thought irritably.

"A month is practically nothing," Halt disputed, his tone slightly grumpy.

"Well, not to you! You've lived for a long time! You're what, forty? Fifty?" At Halt's positively murderous glare, Gilan immediately realized his mistake, and quickly panicked. "I mean, uh, thirty, no, twenty..." He trailed off. Blaze gave the horse equivalent of a snicker.

_Never guess an adult's age or a lady's weight, _was the sage advice the mare offered.

Halt meanwhile, threw his apprentice a dirty look, who mumbled something about riding point for a while and quickly squeezed Blaze into a canter, while Abelard rumbled with amusement.

_All right up there, old man? _his horse sniggered. _Want me to walk slower?_

Halt scowled. "Shut up, Abelard."

_Will do, grandpa._

The grizzled Ranger gave a despairing sigh, and at the moment, slightly hated all three of his companions, both of the apprentice and equine kind.

* * *

Two hours later, as they neared Castle Caraway, Halt had cooled down enough ride next to his apprentice without the urge to slap the boy on the back of the head. Abelard had grown bored of making old man sallies about an hour previously, so it was with a relatively contention free air that they approached the large castle. Castle Caraway, while not as large or beautiful as Araluen's or Gorlan's former, was about on par with Castle Redmont.

Gilan, at the sight of the large structure, gave a happy sigh. Castle Caraway had been his home for essentially his entire life. While he was a adventurous and free spirited soul, there was something satisfying about being back in the most familiar, homey place he knew. "I can't wait to see Bentley," Gilan said gleefully, relishing the thought of being with his tall chestnut Thoroughbred.

Blaze, however, pinned her ears at Bentley's name, and gave an offended buck. Though she was an impeccably trained Ranger horse, she was still a mare, and invariably got offended when her master spoke of other horses. Gilan was quick to give her a soothing stroke. "Don't worry, Blaze," he reassured his mount. "You're still my number one." Blaze relaxed, her ears quickly flopping agreeably to the side.

At their exchange, Halt's thoughts strayed briefly to Declan. After getting Abelard, Halt had given his Hibernian bred horse to a young girl in Redmont fief. She had been overjoyed and loved Declan immensely. Halt saw the pair fairly often, galloping through the fields and jumping hedges by Wensley village. Declan was a gentleman, and as young Bailee had said, "made her feel like a princess". Though Halt missed his horse, he couldn't have asked for a better arrangement.

"There's a dinner tonight," Halt reminded his apprentice, before the boy got too carried away. "Keep that in mind before you run around like a wild child."

Gilan deflated. "That's right. What's it for, again? Do I _have _to go?"

Halt raised an eyebrow. "The Battleschool mock tournament? Part of the reason we came, remember, because your father wanted you to be in it?"

Gilan made a face. "Unfortunately," he muttered unhappily. He didn't mind his sessions with MacNeil, and he occasionally enjoyed sparring with the Redmont apprentices (though that often ended with him getting a bloody nose), but the strict rules and stuffy feeling of a tournament was completely unappealing to him. "I'll have to wear chain mail," he said distastefully.

"It'll please your father," Halt said simply. "Do it for him."

Gilan sighed in defeat. "Alright. And the dinner?"

"We're going. Even if the company is annoying, the food is generally quite delicious, which is good enough reason itself." A beat passed, before Halt hastily added, "Er, and because your parents want you to attend."

* * *

Halt took another bite of his fruit salad. He had been right about the food being extremely tasty, the Ranger decided as he enjoyed a particularly juicy piece of watermelon. Letting his gaze drift over the various Battleschool apprentices and castle occupants, he finally let it land on his apprentice. Gilan was standing with his parents, who were currently conversing with Baron Fergus. Halt felt slightly sympathetic as he watched Gilan shift his weight uneasily, nervously pulling his dress tunic straight. Despite being raised in this environment, Gilan was uncomfortable in large crowds. Even as Halt came to this conclusion, he watched Gilan unconsciously raise his left hand to chew on this thumbnail, a habit he did when he was anxious, before quickly jerking it down like he'd been burned. Gilan was clearly just about done with the party.

Finally, the family approached Halt. Gilan immediately went to stand slightly behind his mentor. Faced with the three of them, Halt was yet again reminded of Gilan's physical similarities to both parents, but mostly his mother. Gilan had gotten David's height and slightly dished nose, but Gilan was mainly Lysette's child. They had the same willowy build, the straight, ashy-blonde hair, the same deep, stirring blue eyes.

"Halt!" David greeted him warmly. "Enjoying yourself?"

"Very much," Halt replied honestly. David was a true friend, one that he didn't have to put a facade on for. Turning to Lysette, Halt inclined his head. "Lysette. I hope you're doing well."

Lysette smiled brightly. "I'm wonderful. Even better since I've seen Gilan." Halt knew how much Lysette and David loved their only son. After several miscarriages and almost giving up, they had finally had Gilan. The circumstances were enough to make any parent protective, and Halt admired their ability to allow their free spirited son a longer rein than most parents might give.

David continued, a smile lighting up his face as well. "We were going to go on a ride tomorrow morning before the tournament, if you wanted to join us." The Battlemaster offered. "Gilan's been dying to take Bentley for a gallop."

A faint smile touched Halt's face. "Blaze was jealous when she heard," Halt admitted. David laughed.

"Spunky little thing, she is," David said fondly. Gilan quickly spoke up, addressing his father.

"Dad? Do you think we could spar tonight?"

David affectionately ruffled his son's hair. Though he completely approved of his son's choice to train as a Ranger, that didn't stop him from missing him. "Of course!" He answered with mock severity. "Have to see if you're letting your sword work slide." Glancing around, David lowered his voice. "What do you say we go now? Sneak out and leave the boring conversations to everyone else?"

Lysette rolled her eyes. "Right, leave your poor mother to entertain the dull party," she said, putting on a joking, suffering tone. Gilan's expression turned guilty, but Lysette continued with a laugh. "I'm kidding, Gil. Shoo! Go have fun."

Flashing identical mischievous grins, David and Gilan quickly weaved through the crowd toward the hall's exit. Halt watched them go with some jealously. Given the choice, he would have preferred to go unwind in his quarters, Halt thought glumly as he watched Lord Alden approach, and braced himself for a long conversation.

"I'll distract him if you want to make a run for it," Lysette muttered out of the corner of her mouth. Halt flashed a grateful look toward her.

"You're an amazing woman, Lysette," he murmured sincerely before quickly sliding through the crowd. Behind him, he could make out Lysette's high peal of laughter and, "Alden, how are you?"

_That women deserves a knighting, _Halt thought fervently.

* * *

The next morning was bright and clear. Halt had joined the family on the morning outing, and as they approached a wide stretch of open field, Gilan's hot blooded Bentley started to jig. "Want to race?" Gilan asked, circling his horse as the chestnut threw his head, the white stockings on his legs flashing as he pranced.

"I don't know, Gil," David teased. "Think Bentley can keep up with Archie?" Archie was David's large grey. Built heavier and stockier than Bentley, Archie wasn't as reactive, but he was a powerful animal.

Lysette quickly cut in, stroking her dainty black saddle mare; a lady's horse. "Come on," she scoffed. "We all know Ebony would win." Gilan grinned, then threw an amused glance at Halt.

"Actually, Abelard would probably win," the boy said thoughtfully.

"I'll watch and decide the winner," the Ranger offered.

David quickly positioned Archie level with Bentley, who was chomping excitedly on his bit. Lysette adjusted Ebony, and at Halt's signal, they took off.

Bentley broke away fastest, his long legs and Thoroughbred reflexes putting him ahead of the others. Ebony was behind him, her slim black legs stretching out, her legs barely seeming to touch the ground as she seemingly floated along. Archie, as was to be expected, started slowly, lumbering as he built up power and speed.

Bentley would most likely have won were it not for a stray pheasant that flew out almost underneath him. The chestnut spooked badly and swerved as Gilan fought to maintain his seat. In the time it took to straighten his horse, Ebony flew past him. Lysette crossed the finish point first, while Archie and Bentley ran, nose to nose, neither horse wanting to lose, passed the line together.

"I told you!" Lysette said happily, breathing hard, her long blonde hair windswept and tangled. Gilan, his face red, clutched at his side as a cramp hit him.

"Bentley... spooked." Gilan insisted in between pants. "He... would have... won."

"Longer race and Archie would have had it," David disagreed, wiping a bead of sweat from his forehead.

As they continued with their argument, Halt just shook his head at them all. For such a well known, blue blooded family, they were wild and fun and interesting. With parents like this, Halt decided, Gilan's constant flighty, energetic behavior shouldn't have been a surprise.

"New contest!" Gilan said suddenly. "Whoever can make Halt laugh first!"

They spent the ride home exchanging bad jokes and puns, but Lysette won when she started telling Gilan's old baby stories. Gilan groaned in embarrassment, David berated himself for not thinking of using them, and Halt stowed away the stories for future reference.

All in all, Halt decided, not a bad visit.

* * *

**I'm alive! I'm so terribly sorry about the hiatus.**

**No excuses, besides work and horse shows and fun stuff like that. My Burning Bridge reboot is almost ready for an update (FINALLY), so yay for that. I'd like to wind up Little Things in Between soon, and I have quite a few unfinished one shots in my folder that I'd like to finish and post. "Like to", being the key phrase here, but I'm trying, and I finally have a bit of time to breathe and write and hopefully get some things up.**

**Next chapter: Requested by Heather, MacNeil comes to Redmont, and chaos, as always, ensues...**

**If anyone even still cares about this story, reviews are muse food.**

**-TrustTheCloak**


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